


Chasing the Wind

by Charnia



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-09-20
Updated: 2011-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-23 21:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/255283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charnia/pseuds/Charnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the prequel to a story in progress (found at http://charnia.livejournal.com/3329.html ), which tracks Blair Surana through the adventures of Dragon Age Origins.  Although magically gifted, Blair is not well-equipped to be the Hero of Ferelden, and many of the obstacles he faces are of his own device.  This part of the story deals with Blair's attempt to help Jowan, the fallout from that, his becoming a Gray Warden, and his return to the Tower after having escaped it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harrowing

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Gates of Life and The Broad Road](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/4541) by Charnia. 



For the first time Blair walked into the Harrowing chamber at the peak of the Circle Tower. His mouth was dry and his heart pounding, but when he walked into the room for a moment he forgot his anxiety and just stared out into the cavernous room. He wasn’t even tall for an elf, and the huge room with the domed ceiling arching overhead made him feel very small. The room was lit by lamps arranged around the periphery, and the evening sun shone through stained glass windows. In the center of the room stood a pedestal emitting a blue light.

The Templar who had led him this far followed a few steps behind as Blair walked towards the center of the room. To his amazement, both the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander themselves were waiting for him. With them waited one of the younger Templars, Cullen, looking even more anxious than Blair felt, and he wondered with some irritation why he seemed so nervous when it was Blair’s Harrowing. Several other Templars were scattered around the room, and began to move to form a loose circle around them—which ratcheted Blair’s nervousness up to actual fear.

He’d been informed that he’d been scheduled for the Harrowing two weeks ago, and having no idea what was coming had driven him to nervous exhaustion, running through exercises and spells endlessly. He’d never had a test that he could not prepare for through study or practice, but the most he could get out of any of the mages at his lessons was, “Try not to worry, there is really no way to prepare for it.” To suggest he not worry was ridiculous when everyone knew a sizable number of apprentices simply _disappeared_ after their Harrowing, with no notice taken of it besides striking their names from the class rosters. Sure, he could become Tranquil and avoid the Harrowing, but that was like saying he could fling himself down the stairs and bash his brains out to avoid the Harrowing. It came out to the same thing.

As Blair stepped in front of him, the Knight-Commander quoted the Chant of Light. “Magic exist to serve man, and never to rule over him.” Blair almost sneered. You mean mages exist to serve _you_ , he thought. But of course he was silent as the Knight-Commander continued his chantry spiel about mages and demons.

The First Enchanter was the one who finally got to the point. “At any time a demon could attempt to possess a mage. Before your training can continue, we must determine you are strong enough to resist their attacks. This ritual sends you into the Fade. There you will face a demon, armed with only your will.”

“Know this, apprentice,” the Knight-Commander said grimly. “If you fail, we Templars will perform our duty. You will die.”

Even if he’d been given time, Blair couldn’t have responded, standing there staring at them in shock. He knew little about demons, the most they were told is that they were dangerous and should be avoided. Even the library was little help, with books on demonology locked away. How could they expect him to survive?

Stepping closer, the First Enchanter said quietly, “The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity. You must tell no one of this ritual. Anyone who speaks of it will be sent to the Aeonar for the rest of their days. Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded so shall you.”

“And what of those who failed?” Blair blurted, anger getting the better of his fear.

Irving looked surprised, but before he could respond the Knight-Commander stepped forward and said, “Preparations are complete. Begin the ritual.”

“Go to the pedestal,” the First Enchanter said. “The lyrium is your gateway into the Fade. Touch it, and you will be transported and the trial will begin.”

Blair balked, but as he hesitated saw the Knight-Commander move his hand to the pommel of his sword. If he did not cooperate, they’d either drag him to the lyrium or kill him outright. He resolutely walked to the pedestal, and looked at the pool of lyrium it held. He’d seen the potions before, and they were similarly blue, but didn’t glow. Reaching out his hand, he touched the tips of his fingers to the glowing liquid. It was warm, and his fingers vibrated as if he were touching a purring cat. He lowered his hand to touch his palm to the surface, and suddenly the warmth increased, quickly becoming a burn. Blair pulled his hand back to see it was glowing, and then there was a flash of light.

When the dazzle faded he was standing in the raw Fade. Blair had been in the Fade in dreams, but those environments had been melded by spirits, while this was the Fade in its natural state, if it could be said to have one. The landscape was twisted and pitted, rising in spires and arches. The ground was some smooth, hard material, almost looking like the scaled skin of a giant dragon. Everything was lit by an eery sourceless glow. At the further distances Blair’s sight was obscured by some rippling effect, as if the material of the Fade itself was unstable. Blair looked up and saw the Dark City at a distance, suspended in the air—or was there air? Blair was breathing, but couldn’t feel any air pass his lips. When he held his breath he quickly found he had no need to breathe at all. He let out a giddy laugh, then looked around fearfully in case something had heard him. There was no sign of anyone else. He found he’d arrived at what appeared to be the beginning of a path, and set out along it, frightened but ready to face whatever lay before him.

 

In bear shape, the apprentice roared and swiped at the demon with its heavy paw. The demon looked like a human statue heated red-hot and melted almost to shapelessness, and the bear’s fur smoked when it hit it. Seeing the apprentice was not badly injured, Blair turned away from the fight to drop another wisp. They were weak spirits, but his left arm was still tingling from a lightning strike from one, and he was sure if not destroyed now they would wear him and the apprentice down. Another lightning bolt shot at him. He felt his muscles twitching as the current passed through his body, but countered with a couple of staff bolts. The final wisp blinked out.

The bear roared in pain. Turning, he quickly cast a healing spell on the apprentice before hitting the demon with a cold spell. It shrieked, like nothing he had ever heard, and shot a jet of flame at him.

Blair leaped back, but the flame lashed at him, enveloping the arm that held his staff. His entire hand felt like he’d dipped it in boiling water, and he screamed and dropped the staff. The sleeve of his robe was on fire, and he beat the flames out with his other hand. He glanced at his burned hand and felt his stomach roll when he saw the blackened, blistered skin, but forced himself to look up at the demon in spite of the pain. The bear reared up on its hind legs and slashed at it with both paws, driving it back hissing with anger. The demon was clearly badly wounded, the flames that had billowed from it fading down to flickering tongues. Gathering his shattered concentration, Blair hit it with a final cold spell.

When the spell struck it the demon’s molten surface darkened to black, the flames snuffed out. It gave one final wail and sank down, seeming to melt slowly into the ground. The bear fell heavily back on all fours and roared triumphantly. Blair gave a gasp of relief that was almost a sob, and gritted his teeth as he cast a healing spell, staring at the growling bear, still unable to look at his hand. He almost screamed as the pain increased when the healing spell took hold, then faded down and left his hand with an aching throb. He looked at it now, and saw angry weals of scar tissue running down the back of his hand. The skin elsewhere on his hand looked healed, though still reddened and tight. He flexed his fingers, relieved to find they all worked.

Would his body be scarred when he left the Fade? He thought not. His body still lay in the Harrowing chamber, after all, it was his spirit that traveled here and took shape.

Blair walked over to the bear, who shook himself and shapeshifted. A moment later the apprentice stood next to him. Blair looked down at the dead body of the demon, already dissipating like the mist over Lake Calenhad in the morning. “That was . . . easier than expected,” he said. He looked around. “Shouldn’t I be leaving the Fade?”

“You did it! You actually did it!” the apprentice said with glee. “When you came I hoped you might be able to—but I never thought any of you were worthy.”

“It wasn’t that hard,” Blair said. “Though it would have been much worse without your help.” He turned in a circle, scanning the surroundings for a second demon. He’d assumed killing the demon would end the ritual. Or was he supposed to go back to the place he’d started? He’d learned in lectures that geography in the Fade had no relevance to geography on the other side of the Veil, but perhaps there was some trigger he needed to trip to exit the Fade?

The apprentice interrupted his thoughts. “That is because you are a true mage, one of the few. The others, they never had a chance. The Templars set them up to fail, like they tried with you.”

Blair turned back to the apprentice, eying him suspiciously. He knew he was one of the more gifted apprentices in the Tower, but was unaccustomed to people flattering him. He _was_ an elf. “It sounds like you might have had a hand in that too. What is this ‘arrangement’ it spoke of? And clearly not everyone fails, because I know many others who have passed their Harrowing.”

The apprentice looked down at the ground. “Perhaps there are other demons used for the Harrowing, for this one has defeated all as far back as I remember. Because of the ritual, after my body died I was stranded here. I cannot die, but I can suffer. I was under the demon’s power for what seemed years, subjected to whatever tortures its mind could conceive. Finally it lost interest and let me go, but satisfied its cruelty by requiring me to lead other apprentices to it. I regret my part in it, but now maybe I can be freed from that, thanks to you.

“You have defeated a demon! With time you will be a master enchanter with no equal—and maybe there’s hope in that for someone as small and as forgotten as me. If you want to help, there may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside . . . you just need to want to let me in.”

Blair stepped back and looked at the apprentice incredulously. “You served this demon, I know you are not trustworthy, and now you want me to share my mind with you? I begin to think that demon was not the true test.”

“What do you mean?” the apprentice asked indignantly. “What else could it be? Do you see any other demons here?”

“I don’t know, do I?”

The apprentice glared at him for a moment, then smiled and crossed his arms. “I spoke truly about the time limit. If my efforts seem heavy-handed, I am working against a deadline. I suppose you realize the number of apprentices who fall for it, though. If they do not offer me misplaced sympathy, they succumb to vanity.” Blair had already stepped back in alarm and lifted Valor’s staff when the apprentice’s voice suddenly changed, taking on an unearthly timbre. “Simple killing is a warrior’s job. The real dangers of the fade are preconceptions, careless trust. Pride.” Suddenly the apprentice’s body began to morph, stretching and changing as it took its true shape. A gigantic demon reared up over Blair, and he staggered backwards, almost dropping the staff from hands made clumsy by terror. “Keep your wits about you mage. True tests never end.”

Suddenly there was a flash of blue light and a moment later Blair wakened lying on cold flagstones, heart pounding, gasping for breath, covered in a cold sweat. The young Templar stood over him, naked sword pointed at his throat, the blade shaking in his hands.

“Stand down, Cullen,” the Knight-Commander said. “He has passed the Harrowing.”


	2. Revelation

Blair woke to find himself lying in his bunk bed, feeling as hungover as when he, Craig, and Jowan had stolen a bottle of brandy from Senior Enchanter Torrin and split it. He remembered waking up in the Harrowing Chamber and trying to get up before passing out again. From the taste in his mouth he knew his faint memory of vomiting almost on the Knight-Commander’s boots was not just his imagination. He groaned, closing his eyes.

He heard footsteps approaching. “Blair, are you all right?” he heard Jowan say anxiously, and felt like groaning again. Jowan could be trying at the best of times. “Say something!”

“Go away,” he managed.

“Oh good, you’re all right. I was worried when you didn’t wake up for so long. I heard you did great, though, they say it was the shortest Harrowing in years.”

“I couldn’t say,” Blair said, rubbing his temples.

“They carried you back down early this morning. So, give me a hint, what happens? How dangerous is it?”

Blair remembered the First Enchanter’s threat. “I can’t say. But it’s true you can’t prepare for it. And it’s quite dangerous.”

“You can’t say that and then nothing more!”

“Since you get sent to the Aeonar for talking about it, yes I can.”

“Well, fine,” Jowan said sulkily. “So much for friendship. Now you get to move upstairs and I’m left here—with no sign they’ll ever call me for the Harrowing. Sometimes I think they don’t want to make me a mage.”

Probably they just didn’t think he was ready yet, Blair thought. Jowan had more difficulty with magic than most apprentices. “Your turn will come,” he said, but thought privately, hopefully not soon!

Jowan didn’t seem pacified, but just said, “The First Enchanter wants to see you when you’re ready.”

Blair groaned again, but finally dragged himself out of bed and went to wash up. He didn’t feel like eating, so was soon ready, and heading down the corridor to the First Enchanter’s chamber. A few apprentices congratulated him as he passed by, but he saw several others shooting him jealous looks. These he ignored. He had passed the Harrowing, and it didn’t matter what they thought. His headache was beginning to fade, and he was able to start thinking about the consequences of passing the Harrowing. He was now a mage! He could start learning more magic, new spells that were forbidden to apprentices. The mages encouraged the apprentices to learn at least one combat spell, either arcane bolt or a primal spell—and now that Blair had passed the Harrowing he understood why. But they were nervous about teaching them any more, and forbade anything but the most cursory study in entropy or death magic by apprentices. Blair had learned some cold magic and was interested in learning how to control lightning, but he had not been allowed to study it thus far. Maybe now he could study lightning, or advance his studies of glyphs. By the time he’d climbed the two flights of stairs to the senior mages’ floor his headache was almost forgotten.

When he reached the First Enchanter’s door, he found it standing open, and the First Enchanter was inside talking to the Knight-Commander and a man Blair didn’t recognize, an outsider—a warrior. “Uldred, Wynne, and many other senior enchanters have gone to Ostagar to aid the army. We have committed enough to this war effort!” the Knight-Commander said emphatically.

“Since when have you felt such kinship for the mages?” the First Commander asked with a laugh. “Or are you afraid to let them out from Chantry supervision, where they use their Maker-given talents as they were intended?”

Blair hung back outside the door. He’d heard rumors about a war. He and others had had some of their lessons cancelled because their instructors had gone out of the Tower to join the army. Now that he was a mage, might they let him go? Ever since he was a child he’d fantasized about leaving the Tower, his imagination fueled by novels in the library or some of the landscape paintings that decorated the Tower. But he wasn’t sure about leaving to go fight a war.

He hoped to hear more, but the stranger quickly interrupted. “Gentlemen, please! Irving, someone is here to see you.”

Blair was annoyed at being noticed before the two said anything more interesting. He stepped into the room. The Knight-Commander excused himself, and left Blair with the First Enchanter and the stranger.

The First Enchanter first welcomed Blair as a mage, and gave him new robes, orange instead of the apprentice’s blue, and a new staff. When he held the staff he could feel the enchantment in it tickling his palm. Staffs were another piece of equipment apprentices were not allowed to own, and were locked away after lessons. Now he had his own. The final item was a silver ring, clearly enchanted. Blair slipped it on his finger and hoped that the buzz it sent up his arm would fade as he grew used to it. He would examine the enchantment it carried later. “Thank you, First Enchanter,” he said.

“Now then, this is Duncan, commander of the Fereldan Gray Wardens,” the First Enchanter said, nodding to the stranger. Blair looked up in surprise. He’d read of the Gray Wardens, the ancient order of warriors devoted to eradicating the darkspawn. Scattered across Thedas, they spent most of their time hunting down small groups of darkspawn that made their way to the surface from the largely unmapped caves that wended their way under the continent. “You’ve heard about the war brewing in the south, I expect. Duncan is here to recruit for the Gray Wardens, to join the King’s army at Ostagar.”

Blair knew Ostagar was on the verge of the Korcari Wilds. What could be down there to fight? Swarms of barbarians? Some new threat from the uncharted lands beyond? This was not just some minor conflict over piracy off the coast of the Free Marches. And why were the Gray Wardens involved? In the past they had resolutely stayed out of wars between the countries of Thedas. Perhaps they had fewer scruples about fighting the Chasind.

The First Enchanter seemed to regret mentioning the war and said, “But you need not worry about that. You have passed your Harrowing, this should be a day of happiness. The rest of the day is yours. Rest if you like, or read. Tomorrow you will be assigned new instructors. You may discuss with them which direction you want to take your magical studies. I understand you have some skill with glyphs. In the meantime, if you will both excuse me, I must meet with Greagoir. We have matters to talk about,” he said dryly.

“Then I will return to my rooms, for the moment,” said the Gray Warden Commander.

“Certainly. Blair, if you could be so kind, would you could show Duncan to his room in the guest’s quarters?”

Blair was a mage, not a servant. But the Gray Warden was a unusual guest, so perhaps no insult was meant. And perhaps there would be an opportunity to find out what this war was about that everyone was so secretive about. “Certainly. This way, Commander.” He nodded to the First Enchanter and led the way down the hall. He stole a few glances at the Gray Warden as they walked. The man was tall, his bearded face grave and calm, and from his olive skin Blair thought he might be of northern descent, perhaps Rivainni or from the Free Marches. Unusually, he wore two swords strapped to his back. His armor was as clean as any the Templars wore, but its smooth surface was marred in a few places by dimples where dents had been hammered out. “How goes the war?” he asked.

“It has not yet begun,” the Gray Warden answered. For a moment Blair thought he would say no more and was disappointed, but he went on, “To this point there have merely been skirmishes. You may have heard of recent darkspawn sightings?”

“Yes, we’ve heard rumors. But that happens all the time. The darkspawn frequently come above-ground and sometimes burn a few farms, but they are always quickly wiped out.”

“This time the darkspawn are massing into a horde in the Korcari Wilds. We, the Gray Wardens, believe they are led by an archdemon.”

Blair stopped still in the middle of the hall. “That is a Blight,” he said flatly.

“Yes. Darkspawn usually are found in rag-tag bands, but with an archdemon rallying them they can form a veritable army, an unstoppable force. If we are correct this is the beginning of the Fifth Blight.”

Suddenly staying in the Tower did not seem so bad. Blair continued down the hallway, Duncan walking beside him. Blair asked, “If there is a Blight, how can you fight it? Their blood is said to be poisonous, and people exposed to it die in agony.”

“It is not as simple as that. Their blood is poisonous, but it seems to affect people differently. I have seen men go into combat again and again and never be poisoned. Others can simply walk onto a bloodstained battlefield, fall ill, and die. The Gray Wardens excel at battling the darkspawn because we cannot be poisoned by their blood.”

“How is that? This cure should be given to the King’s army!”

“The cure is not without cost. Becoming a Gray Warden is a path of service and sacrifice.”

They had reached the guest quarters. Blair wanted to ask more questions, but the Gray Warden said, “I thank you for accompanying me,” and took his leave.


	3. Escape

If the Gray Warden was done speaking, perhaps the library could answer his questions. Blair headed towards the library, but was immediately accosted by Jowan, who stepped out from inside a doorway and hissed in a low voice, “I need to talk to you! But not here! We need somewhere . . . safe.”

“Do you have any idea how suspicious you look?” Blair said, grabbing Jowan’s arm and pulling him down the hall, feeling the eyes of a curious Templar on his back. Jowan had clearly been following him. Blair had been distracted by his Harrowing in the past few weeks, but he realized Jowan had been acting oddly secretive for a while now. Maybe it had something to do with the girl he’d taken up with—Blair hoped he had not gotten her pregnant. There were steps mages could take to prevent that, but if Jowan was as conscientious with that as with his studies there might be trouble.

“Sorry! Here, follow me!” Jowan led the way down the hall.

Blair followed him, expecting to end up in some corner of the library, or a deserted stairwell. Instead Jowan went to the Chantry sanctuary. “We can talk here,” he said.

Blair said in a low voice, “In the fucking Chantry? With them around?” He jerked his head towards an acolyte who was approaching them.

“Yes, well, you remember I told you a few weeks ago that I met someone?” Jowan asked nervously. “This is Lily.”

Blair glared at her. “I see now why you stopped talking about her.” He sneered at Lily, “You do know fraternizing with the mages is forbidden?”

“That’s why we’ve been careful,” Jowan said. “I’m not giving Lily up. We love each other.”

Blair took another look at the girl. She wasn’t much to look at, with chipmunk cheeks and an unfortunate haircut that made her face look even shorter than it was, with bangs cut straight across just at eyebrow level. But then there was nothing out of the ordinary about Jowan’s looks either.

“So I’m here why?” Blair asked.

“Lily found out—they’re going to make me Tranquil! They’ll take everything I am from me—my dreams, my hopes, my fears, my love for Lily. All gone!”

Blair looked at Jowan in disbelief. “Why would they do that?”

Lily interjected, “It’s true, I saw the papers on Greagoir’s desk.”

Blair noticed she called the Knight-Commander by name, but let it pass. “Again, why?”

Jowan said somberly, “There’s a rumour going round about me. People think I’m a blood mage.”

Blair snorted. “Clearly the Knight-Commander doesn’t have the sense the Maker gave a goose. _You_ , a blood mage?”

Jowan looked a little hurt at this, but Lily nodded her agreement. “That’s why you’re here. We need your help, so Jowan can escape. We want to destroy his phylactery.”

For a long moment Blair was speechless, then he said, “You realize if you get caught they will _kill_ you, right? They won’t just beat you or throw you in a cell for a while.”

“If they make me Tranquil I might as well be dead anyway!”

Jowan’s eyes shone with tears, and Blair could help feeling sorry for him. Jowan was a pain in the ass, but he’d been friendly to Blair when he didn’t have to. Maybe because Jowan had no other friends, but enough of the other outcast children had tried to placate their frustrations by bullying the elven boy that he appreciated Jowan’s efforts over the years. “Well, what’s your plan?” Blair asked.

Jowan said, “We just need your help getting the phylactery. The phylactery chamber is down three floors—”

Blair shook his head. “We’re not even allowed down there.”

“Lily has a key to one of the Templar staircases. It will take us straight down right next to the doorway leading to the phylactery chamber. There’s a door inside that can only be opened by a Chantry member and a Harrowed mage. Once we open that, the phylactery chamber is just beyond.”

Lily said, “I know the Templar on watch tonight. He’s seeing one of the kitchen girls, and he always sneaks off to meet her when she gets off duty. He’ll be gone at least half an hour.”

“Please, Blair, will you help us?” Jowan looked at him pleadingly.

Blair said without hesitation, “No.”

 

But that evening he and Jowan were sneaking off to the stairway leading down to the phylactery chamber. Blair had refused, and Jowan and Lily had argued, remonstrated, and finally begged. In the end Blair had agreed. If they were caught, he would die. But it should be a simple matter. It seemed the Templars trusted to the double-locked door, unable to imagine any Chantry member helping a mage break in, and the more he thought about the Knight-Commander’s plan to tranquil troublesome apprentices the more angry he got.

He and Jowan ducked into the stairwell and met Lily inside. She locked the door behind them and they hurried down the stairs, listening carefully for anyone else coming up or down the stairs. She unlocked the door at the bottom and checked for the sentry, who was missing as expected. In a moment they were through the first door, through the antechamber, and heading down another set of stairs towards the phylactery chamber.

The first door posed no obstacle to Lily and Blair, opening at her words and his magic. The hallway beyond was deserted. There were two doors, one before them and another to their right. Lily ran to the first door and tried it. Locked. "Maybe it's the same?"

Blair followed her more slowly. "Maybe," he said. They tried to open this door but it didn't budge. Blair frowned. "Something's wrong," he said. He'd touched the door with just a brush of cooling magic, and it had felt like the spell had drained away like water through a sieve. He tried to cast the spell again, stronger this time, but it did nothing. "This door's warded," he said. "My spells are canceled."

"That's got to be it!" Jowan said, with more enthusiasm than Blair thought warranted.

"Unless Lily knows how to pick locks we're not getting in there. We should turn back now."

"Just try this one!" Jowan walked to the other door and tried it. Locked. He looked at Blair for a minute with a stubborn glint in his eye, while Blair waited for him to admit defeat. Jowan turned back to the door and put his hand on the doorknob, then muttered something. There was a creaking noise and the sound of cracking wood, and the wooden door frame gave way.

Blair shook his head and followed after them. This was starting to be a worse plan than the original idea, but there was no way the others would give up now.

They came through this door to find a curving hallway, with doors along each wall. They checked the doors as they came to them, finding each unlocked. Most rooms held equipment—old suits of armor, staffs and swords, boxes of book, cases of empty bottles of all sizes. After the first few rooms they simply gave the others a cursory glance before hurrying down the hall. Finally they reached another door at the end of the hallway, this one also locked.

Blair was getting more anxious, and said, “Give it up Jowan, this is all just storage. We’re not going to find a back door.”

Jowan just glared at him and put his hand on the door. The frame creaked and then with a crack and a wrenching groan the door swung open, ripping the lock out of the door. Beyond was a wide room, though it was hard to see how large because it was much darker. It was lit by glowing lyrium lamps, set a good distance apart. This area clearly was not visited often, while the hallway behind them was lit by burning torches. Jowan and Lily stepped into the dark hallway. Shaking his head, Blair followed them and shoved the door shut behind him, although the splintered wood would be easily noticed by anyone coming after them. He heard Jowan speak from ahead, “What is that?”

He followed and found the other two looking at what seemed to be a square cage, with bars planted in the floor and extending up into the ceiling, set a few feet away from the stone wall. Another was set on the other side of the room, with a walkway between them. Each was empty, with not even a mat on the stone floor. “Look, there’s another,” said Lily. Indeed, there was a second beyond it, and Blair soon saw the walkway extended between two long rows of these cages, all set five or six feet apart. Blair stepped closer to the cell to look inside.

When his foot hit the stones and he suddenly he felt the strangest sensation, a falling sensation in the pit of his stomach, and a sickening burn through his body. He staggered back and Jowan caught him, keeping him from falling on the flagstones.

“What the fuck!” he gasped. He was looking down at the floor, and saw at his feet a metal circle was inlaid into the stone, surrounding the cage. At intervals silvery runes were laid into the stone. Blair recognized one of the symbols he had learned for a glyph of paralysis, here with a few modifications, and another he recognized as having to do with the Fade.

“Are you all right?” Jowan asked nervously, helping him upright.

“Yes.” He pulled away from Jowan and said, “They’re meant to hold mages. Stay out of the circles.”

They went on past cell after cell, each empty. Jowan and Lily seemed intimidated by the finding, and Blair also felt more and more like demanding the stairwell key and turning back. By the time they had reached another door at the end of the hall he had counted forty cells.

Jowan broke the next door and they entered another hallway, with doors on each side. These had small barred windows in them. Blair stood on his toes peered through one to see an empty room, lit by a single lyrium lamp, with a large circle set into the floor. In the middle of the circle iron staples were driven into the floor and ceiling.

“Maker!” he heard Lily say softly. He turned to see her looking through another window.

“Come away,” Jowan said, pulling on her arm. His face was drawn and frightened. They hurried down the hall and Blair went over and peered in that window. There was another circle, but this time set in the middle was a device Blair recognized from drawings in the library as a rack.

Suddenly all of Blair’s fear vanished like water splashed on a hot griddle, replaced by fury. He remembered Enchanter Dermot, an outspoken Libertarian who was rumored to have said some very shocking things about the Chantry before vanishing for a month a few years ago. When he returned he had apparently dropped all political ideas, and developed a stutter whenever he saw a Templar. He must have been locked up down here, in the dark. Maybe he’d been stretched on that very rack.

He pushed away from the door and headed up the hallway. Lily and Jowan were standing in the hall having a quiet argument. “I think you should go back,” Jowan said earnestly.

“No, I’m not leaving you here!” Tears shone in Lily’s dark eyes. “Come with me.”

“They’re going to Tranqil me! I have to get my phylactery.”

“Better Tranquil than dead!”

Blair broke in. “Hurry up and make up your minds. We’ve almost come full circle, if there’s another way into that chamber we’ve nearly reached it.” Although the Tower construction stretched out further underground, it was still laid out in an elliptical shape, and the hallways had been curving to the left since they came through the door.

Jowan took Lily’s hand. “I can’t go back.”

“Then neither can I,” she said, quietly but with earnest intensity. She brushed away the tears, looking into Jowan’s eyes. Jowan said nothing, but smiled and kissed her.

Blair had seen apprentices getting up to a lot more than that in the dormitories, but he felt strangely embarrassed. He headed down the hall, and soon the others followed him.

The next door was stronger than the previous ones, and while it groaned when Jowan tried to break the lock, it didn’t break. “Damn it, we can’t stop now,” Jowan moaned in despair.

“Maybe I can chill it and then you can try to break it again,” Blair suggested. Jowan stepped back, and he reached out his hand and started pulling heat from the metal. Condensation started to gather on the metal, and then froze to ice. Still Blair kept the magic going, until he felt the spell beginning to flag, reaching his limit. He stepped back and took a deep breath. “Try it now, hard as you can.”

Jowan put his hand on the door and gathered himself before casting, then _pushed_ the door so hard Blair could feel an eery ripple emanating from him as the magic left him, a sensation he’d only felt a few times before. The cold metal snapped, cleanly shearing the bolt. Jowan laughed triumphantly as the door swung open—only to freeze as a hollow voice inside the room beyond said, “Thieves of the Chantry, perish!”

There was a clank of metal and an animated suit of armor strode through the doorway as they backed away. It raised a naked sword in its hand and swung down at Jowan, who leaped back and raised his staff just in time. The sword dug into the staff and ripped a chunk of wood free. As it pulled back its arm to swing again Blair cast reflexively and a puff of mist arose around the suit of armor as water droplets condensed in the chilled air. The armor slowed, and jolted as a bolt from Jowan’s staff knocked it back. It started forward again, its boot clashing against the flagstones, and Jowan backed up desperately, raising his staff before him.

Lily shrieked and leaped forward, grabbing the sentinel’s arm and yanking it back. It flung her back, knocking her to the ground. Blair hit it again with a staff bolt and it turned toward him. “Use the spell you used on the doors!” Blair shouted to Jowan, shooting another bolt at it. It came closer, sword raised, and Blair knew if it struck he was doomed.

Jowan raised his hand and growled something under his breath, and suddenly the armor was shoved back with enough force to pop a few rivets in the suit. It regained its balance and headed forward again.

Suddenly there was a high-pitched yell and Lily charged the suit of armor from behind. “No, Lily, run!” Jowan shouted, but Blair saw she had a large axe raised in both hands. She swung it down and it sheared through the suit of armor, ripping metal with a harsh shriek. The sentinel’s sword arm was torn half off, hanging from a few bent flaps of metal. Blair could see inside the armor now, an empty hollow filled by a pale blue glow from runes bolted to the inside of the breastplate.

The sentinel’s only reaction was to reach its left arm across to take the sword from its mangled right arm. It turned and raised the sword, about to strike Lily down. She was struggling to raise the axe again, but it was far too heavy for her to wield. Blair hit it with another cold spell and yelled to Jowan, “Hit it again, rip its head off!”

Jowan was quick to obey, and the sentinel’s helmet jerked as an invisible force struck it. Rivets tore, and the helmet flopped forward. A blue glow emitted from the neck of the armor. It staggered and hesitated, as if unsure how to properly aim. Jowan stepped forward, his staff raised in his hands, and swung it like he was playing rounders in the Tower dining hall. The staff struck the helmet with a crack that must have left Jowan’s hands stinging, and ripped the helmet clean off the armor. It flew across the room and clattered to the floor. The armor stood for a few seconds as the blue glow gradually faded, then slumped down with a crash.

Now that the danger was past, Lily suddenly burst into tears. She flung herself into Jowan’s arms, then gave him a flurry of kisses. Blair tried to ignore them and examined the axe she had been using. It was a heavy war-axe, and she must have only been able to swing it out of desperate fear. He stepped through the doorway into the room beyond, this time lit with many lyrium lamps. It seemed a treasure-house—embroidered robes hung on hooks in the wall, and a rack by the door held many weapons, some with fancifully decorated and gem-encrusted hilts. This must be where Lily had gotten the axe. The walls were lined with pillars carved with gracefully curving vines and flowers that were quite delicate for being carved of stone.

“Oh!” Jowan said in amazement from the doorway. “This must be the Repository.”

Blair had heard of it. Magical items and books were kept here—some considered dangerous by the Templars—in addition to more mundane treasures like gold and gems. These were probably stored in the chests that lined the walls, but Blair’s attention was drawn by a few bookshelves crammed with ancient books. Blair longed to go read them, but they needed to hurry. He bypassed the bookshelves and went to the opposite wall. The phylactery room should be on the other side of this wall, but there was no door.

It looked like the end of the road—unless they could find something in this treasure trove that could be used to break down the door, perhaps? He opened a cabinet and sorted through some staffs that seemed fairly run-of-the-mill, if made of better wood and more neatly trimmed than the ones the mages usually had in the tower, and then found something more unusual. Next to the cabinet, a short wooden rod with a carved handle hung from a hook in the wall. A glyph was stamped into the handle, and Blair recognized it as a rod of fire. He had used one a few times before, in his classes under supervision by an enchanter. Used properly, a rod of fire could do anything from heating a cup of tea to making a small explosion. It probably wouldn’t work if used directly on the door to the phylactery chamber, but maybe if aimed near the wall the explosion would bypass the door’s shielding?

“Look, Blair!” Jowan said. “Didn’t we learn about these?”

Blair turned to find Jowan looking at a statue of a dog, set facing the far wall. A collar was carved around its neck, bearing in relief a series of glyphs. “That is Tevinter. It amplifies magic, right?”

“Yes! I wonder. . . Maybe I could use it to cast a spell at that wall, and break it down?”

It was a good idea. Blair eyed the wall. He doubted whether Jowan would be able to knock a hole in the wall, even with the aid of the artifact. But maybe the rod of fire would work? It could create quite a blast, he knew this from one student who had failed to start a fire with the rod, instead flinging the firewood all over the room. “Perhaps use this rod of fire?”

“Oh-ho! That should work!”

They stripped a tapestry from the wall and dragged a wardrobe full of robes away so it would not be set alight. Lily stood back as Blair and Jowan stood by the statue, trying to figure out how to trigger it correctly. The first couple attempts just left blackened marks on the wall, but finally Blair triggered the rod of fire and the magic channeled correctly through the artifact. He felt a moment of triumph, then fear as a lance of fire shot out from the rod and struck the wall with a boom. It knocked him head over heels, and he sat up coughing on the dust several feet away from the artifact.

Jowan also was shoving himself up to his hands and knees, but said jubilantly between coughs, “It worked! It worked!” They could now see through a hole in the wall into another darkened chamber.

There was a clank from the chamber beyond and a dark shape loomed up, blocking out the dim light in the aperture. “Perish, thieves!” a hollow voice said.

Blair still had the rod of fire in his hand, and he flung himself towards the Tevinter artifact. He pulled himself to his feet and slammed the rod in place on top of the artifact, and triggered the rod again as two sentinels stepped through the hole in the wall. The seething bolt of fire struck one sentinel. Blair saw nothing more but a flash of light. The next thing he knew he was lying some distance away, his ears ringing and a goose-egg rising on his head. He sat up to see pieces of armor scattered around the room. But another sentinel was stepping through the hole in the wall, tromping towards him, sword gleaming in its hand.

It reeled, probably struck by Jowan’s magic. Blair’s head was still spinning, and he realized Lily was tugging at his arm, trying to pick him up. He saw the rod lying nearby and pulled away from her, throwing himself at the rod. His hand closed on the handle and he rolled over, raising the rod and aiming at the sentinel’s helmet. He triggered it, feeding the rod as much magic as he could spare, and a narrow beam of light shot out. This time the explosion was smaller, a bang like a heavy door slamming, and the armor’s helmet shattered to pieces while the rest of the suit crashed to the floor. Blair felt a sudden sting on his cheek, and raised his hand to find blood on his face. A piece of shrapnel had hit him in the face, dangerously close to his eye.

“Is that all?” he asked, standing unsteadily.

“I think so,” Jowan said. He was dusty and disheveled. He saw the blood on Blair’s face and asked, “Maker, are you all right?”

“It’s nothing,” Blair said, pressing his sleeve to the cut to try to stop the bleeding.

Lily stepped forward and looked at the cut, though he tried to stop her. “It’s shallow, he’ll be fine,” she said.

“Thanks,” Blair said brusquely, and went to the hole in the wall. He stepped through into a dark room with just a couple lights burning. Similar pillars lined this room, although unlike the Repository this room was almost entirely empty. A dais was at one side of the room, and on it stood a single simple cabinet. Blair went up the stairs and waited as Jowan came up beside him and silently opened the cabinet.

Inside were countless tiny vials, each containing a small volume of dark fluid. “Maker’s mercy, I should just destroy them all,” Jowan breathed.

“No, they can’t find out until after you’ve escaped, or they’ll just lock the Tower down and make new phylacteries for all the apprentices,” Blair said. That huge hole in the wall would certainly arouse suspicion, but maybe if the phylacteries seemed undisturbed they would think the thieves were after the treasures in the room beyond, and at least delay checking the inventory of the phylacteries. He wondered briefly when Jowan planned to escape and how, but he’d told both Jowan and Lily to not tell him anything about that part of their plan. He hoped it was soon.

“Right. We’ll need to find mine, then,” Jowan said. They soon sorted out that the phylacteries were organized by year of admission into the Tower. “It was about the 8th or 9th year,” Jowan said.

Blair had arrived in the 10th year Dragon, he was told, and as he searched through for the 8th and 9th year he ran across these vials. There was an empty spot toward the back of that shelf, and he wondered if it was where his phylactery had stood until possibly just a few hours ago. He skipped past those and went to the 9th year, where he searched through a dozen vials. “No Jowans in this year.”

“Found it!” Jowan said triumphantly. He held up the vial. “I am Jowan Trewin, did you know that?” he asked, pointlessly, since he had not even known it himself. “Born in the fifth year of the Dragon, fourth day of Haring.” Jowan tore the tag off the neck of the vial and read it again, as if committing it to memory. Lily took it from his hand and read it also, smiling. “I can’t believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom. So fragile, so easy to be rid of it, to end its hold over me.” He held the phylactery out and let it slip from his fingers. It smashed on the stone floor.

“Jowan, soon you will be free!” Lily said, her eyes gleaming with happiness.

Hoping to head off more kissing, Blair interrupted, “Now that’s done, we should _get the fuck out of here_.”

“I do not want to stay here a moment longer!” Lily agreed.

They headed back down the stairs and were about to retrace their route when Blair said, “I wonder if that door opens from the inside?”

Indeed, from the inside it opened easily. Blair felt a surge of relief when the door swung open on an empty corridor, and realized he’d been half-expecting to find Templars waiting for them. Still, they were not clear yet, and he wouldn’t feel safe until he was back on his floor. And then bathed and changed into new robes, with his dusty, bloody robes thrown anonymously into the laundry.

They headed back up the stairs to find the antechamber empty, but Blair was still on edge. Jowan was babbling about his gratitude, and Blair said, “Enough, just _move_.” Then the door swung open and Blair’s blood ran cold when Knight-Commander Greagoir walked in, followed by the First Enchanter and a group of Templars.

“So what you said was true,” the Knight-Commander said to the First Enchanter, his eyes stormy. “An initiate conspiring with a blood mage. I’m disappointed.” The three had frozen in terror, and the Knight-Commander walked closer like a wolf stalking its prey. “She seems shocked, yet fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then. The initiate has betrayed us. And this one—newly a mage and already flouting the rules of the Circle.”

The First Enchanter was hanging back behind the Templars, but said to Blair gravely, “I’m disappointed. You could have told me what you knew of this plan, and you didn’t.”

Jowan snarled at him, “You don’t care for the mages! You just bow to the Chantry’s every whim!”

Blair agreed—why would he have told the First Enchanter anything? He did nothing to stop the Harrowings, or prevent mages being made Tranquil.

“Enough!” the Knight-Commander said, raising his hands. “As Knight-Commander of the Templars here assembled, I sentence this blood mage to death.”

Blair felt like he’d been kicked in the gut, too shocked to say anything. The Knight-Commander continued, “As for the initiate, take her to Aeonar.”

The Templars stepped forward. Jowan shouted, “No! I won’t let you touch her!” He pulled out a knife, but instead of attacking the Templars to Blair’s shock he stabbed himself in the hand, and an aura like ghostly red flames sprung up around him. As the blood began to stream down his wrist he started casting some spell that Blair didn’t recognize. The Templars sprang forward to seize him, but too late. The spell hit Blair as well as the Templars. He felt as if a giant’s hand had swatted him, smashing him to the flagstones.

When he’d caught his breath he tried to sit up, and then was struck by a blinding flash of light and searing pain, feeling mana ripped away from him. When he recovered his senses he was lying on his back, his arm feeling like it had been jerked out of its socket, and ribs aching like he’d taken a boot in the side. A heavy boot on his chest made it hard to catch his breath, and he could feel the cold steel of a sword tip digging into his throat.

“Don’t move, don’t even try to speak,” the Knight-Commander said. Blair couldn’t even think about disobeying, he was too disoriented.

“Knight-Commander, I hardly think he could do anything, not with everyone on guard. He knows no blood magic,” the First Enchanter said.

“He was conspiring with a blood mage!” the Knight-Commander said, but took his foot from Blair’s chest and stepped back. Blair took a deep breath, but a moment later another Templar bent and grabbed his arm, jerking him up to kneel awkwardly, bent forward with his arm twisted behind his back.

“I didn’t know,” Blair said between gritted teeth. The Knight-Commander spun around and he flinched.

“You think that _excuses_ you? A blood mage is free because of your actions. All of our safeguards are worthless because you betrayed us not even a day after joining the Circle. And you,” he said to Lily, who stood looking on wide-eyed. “You betrayed your vows and aided a blood mage.”

“She didn’t know!” Blair said again, then hissed as the Templar holding his arm twisted it further.

“It’s all right, you’ve been a friend, but I there is no defense for my actions,” Lily said, bowing her head. “I accept your judgement, Knight-Commander.”

“Aeonar,” the Knight-Commander said coldly. Lily blanched. Blair had never heard of anyone returning from the Aeonar. It was said the Veil was torn there, and mages locked up there were often possessed, only to be killed by the waiting Templars. “Take her away,” the Knight-Commander said, and two Templars led Lily away.

“As for _you_ ,” the Knight-Commander said, turning on Blair.

Blair glared up at him. Send me to the Aeonar, he thought. I’ll find the most powerful demon I can, and see how many Templars I can take with me across the Veil. But he knew the odds were the Knight-Commander would just kill him outright.

Indeed, the Knight-Commander placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. Blair was gritting his teeth, resolving to die with his chin up and his eyes open, when the Knight-Commander was interrupted.

“Knight-Commander, if I may,” the Gray Warden Commander said calmly. Blair had not even noticed him come into the room, and the Knight-Commander also seemed surprised. “I’m not only looking for mages for the king’s army, I’m also recruiting Gray Wardens. Irving has spoken highly of this mage’s skills, and I would like him to join the Gray Wardens.”

“Duncan, this mage has aided a maleficar, and shown a lack of regard for the Circle’s rules,” the First Enchanter objected.

“He is a danger!” snapped the Knight-Commander.

“It is a rare person who risks all for a friend in need. I stand by my decision. I will recruit him.”

“I refuse to allow it! He cannot go unpunished!” The Knight-Commander’s hand returned to the hilt of his sword.

“In that case, I must invoke the Right of Conscription. There are worse things in the world than blood mages, you know that. Mages are needed. I will take this young mage under my wing, and bear all responsibility for his actions.”

“A blood mage escapes, and his accomplice is not only allowed to go unpunished, but rewarded for his actions! Are our rules nothing? Have we lost all authority over our mages? This does not bode well, Irving!”

“We have no more say in this matter,” the First Enchanter said calmly.

Blair was completely confused by the sudden turn of events. The Knight-Commander was the authority in the Tower. No one denied him, not even the First Enchanter. Yet it seemed he was yielding to the Gray Warden. Blair began to hope that he was not after all going to die.

Indeed, the Knight-Commander shook his head in frustration and gestured to the Templar holding Blair. “Release him.” The Templar let go of Blair’s arm and he slowly stood, resisting the impulse to rub his sore wrist, still unable to believe the Knight-Commander wouldn’t just suddenly run him through. But the Knight-Commander just turned to the Gray Warden and said, “Well then, you have what you wanted, Gray Warden. I ask only that you take your conscript away from the Tower with all speed. And may he serve the Gray Wardens better than he has the Circle.” Disgusted, the Knight-Commander turned on his heel and left the room, the Templars following him.

The First Enchanter seemed surprised, but not angered as the Knight-Commander had been. “Well then, you will be a Gray Warden. Be proud, child, you are luckier than you know,” he said to Blair.

Lucky enough not to be bleeding to death on the floor, that was all Blair knew. “Come, your new life awaits,” said Duncan, and Blair followed him slowly from the room.


End file.
